After Dawn: The Story of John Myers
by jks11235813
Summary: John Myers comes to Liberty City to kill Lou Souriano, responsible for his sister's death. Things get interesting when John meets Tommy Vercetti, the guy who can help him get to Souriano after he finds out he's no longer in Liberty City.
1. Prologue: A Waste of Time

_Summary: John Myers is anything but a regular man. With impressive skills to kill and an envious intelligence, John has worked in the crime line since he was young. But his involvement with the Italian Mafia ended when one of the Souriano's brothers killed his sister for his money. Now, John must find Lou Souriano to get his revenge. Word is that the man is in Liberty City, working with one of the big names of the Liberty Mafia: Jack Sullivan. Things start to get interesting when John finds out Souriano is not in Liberty, but in Vice City. The only man who can help him get to his target is Tommy Vercetti, the old underground king from Vice City who decided to settle down in a bigger city. What will happen when John finally finds Souriano?_

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><p>Prologue – A Waste of Time<p>

John Myers was sitting behind the wheel of a shiny black PMP 600 on a corner in North Holland, smoking a cigarette and observing the deserted Frankford Avenue ahead of him. The radio was tuned to The Vibe and "Criticize" was on, playing low in the car. The street where he was parked was dark and empty, and, above his head, the traffic light worked pointlessly. He inhaled the smoke of the cigarette slowly and carefully and then let it out the window, thinking.

In the trunk of the PMP there was a black bag full with dollar bills that added up to five thousand dollars. John had just gotten it from a hotel room in the Exchange neighborhood south Algonquin. Earlier that day, he had knocked out one of the janitors in the alleyway behind the hotel while the man took the trash out. John stole his clothes and entered the building undercover, carrying a hidden 9mm pistol with a silencer. All he had to do, then, was hide in the targets' room and wait for their return. One silenced shot for each one and the bag was his. John left the building like any other man, wearing his custom sunglasses.

He knew it wouldn't take long for someone to find the bodies. The smartest thing to do was to drive away from the hotel and wait for things to cool down. He drove around in circles first, to be sure no-one was following him, and then he headed north. John stopped at BurgerShot to eat dinner. That was around eleven p.m. Jack wanted to see him at midnight.

John had parked the black PMP on that street thirty minutes ago and was waiting for the right time to walk into the building and meet up with Jack. It was the second job he was doing for the man, in exchange for information on Lou Souriano, John's only objective in Liberty City. He had been around for six months and had already lost count of how many people he had killed.

Alexander O'Neal was replaced by Freddie Jackson on the radio and the green display of John's watch switched to 00:00. He turned off the radio, threw the cigarette on the curb and got out of the car.

Standing alone in a deserted street in North Holland wearing a black jacket and carrying a heavy bag at midnight would look suspicious to anyone. John raised his eyes to the windows on the buildings surrounding him, looking for curious eyes. The very few windows with light were free of movement. John walked into the building.

The place was old and smelly, but John didn't mind that. Walking firmly, he crossed the main hall until he got to the elevator at the end. He waited patiently as it came down making more noise than a train in the distance, always looking around to make sure no-one was watching. If he ran into any kind of problem, he had a dagger well-hidden under his jeans, strapped to his right ankle.

The elevator arrived and John lifted the bars to get in. The ride was long and loud, but John's mind was far away from the elevator. Somewhere up there, there was a man who knew everything he needed to know about Lou Souriano's whereabouts, but he insisted on playing games and making John run around like his bitch, completing things he had left behind. John had decided he wasn't gonna put up with that crap anymore. He wanted answers now.

The elevator stopped and John walked out to the hallway with the heavy bag on his right shoulder. Jack's apartment was the last on the right.

John knocked five times and waited. The doorknob turned after ten seconds and a man in a cheap blue suit let him in, walking him to the improvised office where Jack Sullivan was waiting.

"Johnny!" he exclaimed when John walked in. "Midnight, exactly! If there is one thing you understand, my boy, is punctuality."

Without saying anything, John threw the bag over the table.

Jack Sullivan was a middle-life man with gray hair and a few golden teeth. That night he was wearing one of his black Perseus' suit with a striped tie, and the smell of his cologne impregnated the air in the office. John felt nausea because of the strong smell, but didn't let it show. He just stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest, waiting for Jack to honor his part of the deal.

The old man leaned over the bag and unzipped it. The dim light of the lamp on the desk lighted the dollar bills in the bag and Jack's eyes. He went through them in five seconds and then leaned back on his chair.

"Five thousand dollars, Sullivan" John said. "Now, it's your turn."

Jack blinked, and then opened a smile.

"You gotta relax, my friend!" he said, and reached out for a bottle of scotch on an end table. "Here, have some whiskey."

"I don't need a drink, Jack. I need answers."

"Alright."

Jack put the scotch away and leaned over the desk, crossing his fingers before his eyes.

"What do you wanna know?"

"Where is Lou Souriano?"

"Johnny, Johnny…" he chuckled. "I can't go around telling on my associates! Do you have any idea how bad that would be for my business?"

"Your business is shit, Jack. You own a couple of clubs around the city and you resell the coke from the Russians. It's a cut-throat business."

"Still, it's all I got" he replied. "Lou Souriano is an important associate of mine. If you wanna take him down, you better do it silently. And no-one can find out I helped you."

"I just hope you're not hiding him from me."

"Ha! I'm not that stupid, Johnny. I promised you I would help you get him. In exchange, you would finish some jobs for me around the city. Lou doesn't know a thing about our little… deal."

"So where is he?"

"Unfortunately, my friend, Lou is not in the city."

John felt the blood in his veins start to boil.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You had me running around, doing favors for you, and the whole time you fucking knew Souriano wasn't even in the city?"

Jack raised his hands, palms facing Johnny.

"Whoa, boy, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Lou is not in the city _right now_, but he _will_ be. Trust me. He said he had some business to finish in Vice City and he would be back in no time. Don't worry; he'll be yours before you know it."

"Listen to me, Sullivan, I ain't got no time to waste here" John ranted, pointing his finger at Jack's face and leaning on the desk. "I want Souriano."

"_You_ listen here, boy. I'm the best you got on Souriano so far. The man is like family, and he wouldn't do something without my advice. I could call him right now and tell him to get a flight back to Liberty City and he would get on that fucking flight, right?, but I need stuff done before that happens, you hear me, boy? So you better cool down and do what I tell you if you want Souriano."

John thought about it for a second. Six months before he even got a hint on Souriano. He couldn't let that go.

"Good" Jack said as John retrieved from the table. "I'm glad you're not gonna become another trouble in my account."

"If you're so close to Souriano, why are you turning him in?"

"Because! Because I need stuff _done_, you hear me, boy? And Souriano was becoming a pain in my _ass_. Yes, the man is like family! But not the _good_ part of the family, you understand? Haha!"

"So, when is he going to be back?"

"Who knows? Listen, boy, I ain't got time to waste either. I know you need money, and I got it. Keep close to your phone, and I will keep you informed about Souriano. Trust me, the man will be yours before anything else if you promise to help me. Can I have your word?"

"I need some guarantee."

Jack huffed.

"Fine, what do you want?"

"I wanna a cut of your profits" John said, glancing at the black bag, "and I want some info on Souriano. Details of his life and his involvement with you."

"Why the hell would you want to know that?"

"I've got my motives."

He huffed again.

"Alright, boy. I met Souriano right after he arrived in Liberty City, alright? Back then he was just another poor bastard with a lot in his head and no money to spend. I got him on the biz. Now he runs things on his own. Are you happy?"

John pondered.

"That's enough for now. As for my cut…"

Jack reached into the bag and pulled out four rolls of bills.

"How does a thousand sound to you?"

Sullivan threw the bills at John, who grabbed them without dropping. One last glance at Jack and he was out of the room.

"Remember to stand by your cell phone, Johnny!" Jack shouted from the office as John crossed the living room of the shabby apartment and walked out to the corridor.

He redid his steps down the elevator and out to the street, getting into the car again. He checked his watch; a quarter past midnight. Avery would probably be awake when he returned home.

Starting the car and turning on the radio, John rethought his steps. Sullivan had promised to help him get to Souriano if he did what he was told for the time Souriano was away. It didn't sound as promising as John would have expected, especially after hearing that Souriano was further than he'd like, but it was all he got now. After he arrived in Liberty City, he spent six months running around, making connections, trying to get a word on Souriano. He knew the bastard was in LC; his "contact" had assured him of that. He just didn't know it would be so hard to find someone in that city. Although LC was just a group of islands in the middle of the Atlantic, the place was bigger than a State's metropolis, and everybody seemed to have something against someone. After long six months of hard work, John had come to Sullivan, one of Souriano's associates. When he thought he was getting close to his target, Jack came up with that story of Souriano not being around. What a bunch of shit. If John had any other path to follow, he would have told Sullivan to go fuck himself and he go after Souriano himself. But he didn't have the money to drop everything and head to Vice City like he had done before.

John headed east, crossing Northwood Heights Bridge to get to Bohan. He was living in a one-bedroom apartment in Fortside with a girl named Avery Dawson, an old friend of his who had followed him in his hunt for Lou Souriano. Avery was quiet and shy, but extremely helpful. If John didn't have her, he would have taken double the time to find Souriano's contacts in Liberty City.

When he arrived at his apartment, Avery was watching some late night show under a blanket in the living room. She raised her gray eyes to him as he walked in, taking off his jacket and throwing the rolls of bills on the counter of the kitchen.

"So? How was it?" she asked as he undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. The jacket was left on a chair.

"A fucking waste of my time" he replied.

Avery stood up, leaving the blanket on the couch, and walked towards the counter to have a look on the money. John noticed she was only wearing a thin top, panties and a pair of socks.

"A thousand dollars? That's good enough" she commented.

"Yeah, but this Sullivan thing is a dead end."

"What do you mean?"

"Souriano's not in the city."

Avery's chin dropped.

"Are you serious?"

John removed his tie and threw it over the counter too. Avery glanced at it and returned her eyes to him. She could read disappointment all over his face.

"What did he say to you?" she asked.

John told her everything that happened at Jack's place.

"Hey, it's not that bad" she started. "If you keep doing these 'jobs' for him, you'll get to Souriano in no time. Or at least you're gonna have enough money to fly to Vice City and check on Sullivan's story."

"Still… I feel like I've been wasting every second of my life in this city if Souriano's not here."

"Come on."

Avery reached out and touched his arm over his shirt.

"It wasn't a waste of time. Sullivan says he's close to Souriano, and I bet he is. If you just hang in there, I'm sure Jack's gonna give him to you in no time, John. Trust me. You're gonna get him."

John raised his hand and placed it on the back of Avery's head, pulling her closer to his arms. She didn't resist; instead, she left herself get caught in the kiss, putting her arm around his waist and closing her eyes to the touch of his lips.

In a matter of seconds, they were both out of their clothes and rolling over the sheets of the bed in the only bedroom in the apartment. It was nothing new to them; whenever John came home after a full day, Avery made the stress go away with her body. There was nothing romantic in their relationship; it was just about the sex. There were no intimate dates or thoughtful gifts, just the sheets over the bed. As long as it worked for both of them, there was nothing wrong with it.

That night, after Avery had fallen asleep on his side, John remained awake, thinking about his position. It was hard to digest the fact that Souriano wasn't around, but he would have to be patient and continue on the right track. Avery was there to help him, so there was nothing to worry about. She wouldn't let him do anything crazy or stupid; he knew that for sure. All there was left to do was wait. And that was what John was going to do.

He rolled over under the covers and closed his eyes, falling asleep almost immediately.


	2. Chapter One: The Eye Of The City

Chapter One – The Eye of The City

John inhaled the smoke of the cigarette very slowly, letting the drug fill his lungs and numb his mind. Rings of smoke formed in front of his eyes, blurring his sight of the city, shading his world.

When he woke up that morning, he didn't feel light and easy like he normally would after a night with Avery, or any other girl he cared enough to learn her name. Instead, he felt apprehensive and anxious. He could not let go of the information he had received last night. Jack's words echoed in his ears: Souriano is not in the city anymore, boy. Now, what'ya gonna do? Haha!

John smashed the cigarette on the window sill, annoyed. He wanted to punch Sullivan until his idiotic face was covered in blood and his mouth was begging him to stop. Unfortunately, Avery was right: he would have to be calm and patient if he wanted to get to Souriano. He had waited all these years; a couple more months would be nothing.

He heard water running in the only bathroom in the apartment and he knew Avery was up. She always took a shower after she got up; sometimes John accompanied her. This morning, he wanted to be left alone.

The smoke dissipated in front of his eyes and Liberty City came to life. The big sky-scrapers ahead of him stood up so defying against the loneliness of the seas that surrounded the island, almost mocking the simplicity of the island. The sunlight shined down on the glass windows, creating sparkling spots all over the surfaces, warning the whole world that they were there. And it wasn't just in the day that the city shined; it was at night that it truly gained life and awoke to the needs of the inhabitants. The first night he went out and crossed the Burlesque in his black PMP, he was able to observe all those huge interactive boards all over the façades of the buildings, and immediately fell in love with the city. It was an enormous contrast with the gray streets of his old town that he used to run around. The landscape could have changed, but his habits remained the same.

Smoke filled his lungs again, and his head spun. The warm morning breeze caressed his face, messing his hair, closing his eyes. He could almost feel its warm hands rubbing his cheeks, the wind whispering in his ears. John took that moment to relax, and the tension built in his body seemed to have been lifted for a second. When he opened his eyes again, Liberty City welcomed him, and the weight did not come back. John breathed out in relief.

Avery had turned off the shower, and minutes later she was walking into the living room with her hair wet and different clothes from yesterday. John let his gaze cover her whole body as she walked to the kitchen to make her breakfast.

"You want some?" she offered him some milk.

"Pour me some coffee" he muttered in response.

John's eyes moved away from Avery, back to Liberty City outside his window.

"Still thinking about that?"

John smoked once, twice, before answering.

"Not right now" was all he could come up with.

"I thought I'd gotten your mind out of it last night."

He turned his head around and noticed the playful smile on her face. A hot cup of coffee was waiting for him on the counter.

John finished up the cigarette and followed Avery into the kitchen.

"Is this decaf?" he asked, grabbing the mug.

"No."

"Hum."

Shrugging, John took a sip. The bitter taste of coffee met with the smoke and John felt like puking. Still, he took another sip, and another.

"What are your plans for the day?" Avery asked, leaning against the counter, holding her own mug.

"Dunno. Sullivan told me to hang by the phone."

"What does he want?"

"I don't know; more jobs, I think."

"That man's full of shit."

"You finally get my point."

"Still", she added, "I don't think you should give up. You've come this far; don't do something stupid now."

John shrugged again. There weren't many options left for him at the moment; sticking to Sullivan seemed to be the most promising way. And he knew that already.

"I need you to drive me to Hatton Gardens at two" Avery said after awhile.

"Why?"

"Got a date."

"At noon on a Wednesday?"

"Yeah. The guy's a lawyer; his schedule's always full."

"Since when do you go out with lawyers?"

Avery raised an eyebrow to him over her mug.

"Since when do you care so much about who I go out with?"

John rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Avery, you know it's nothing like that."

"I know" she replied. "So, can you drive me or not?"

"Don't you think it's weird another guy driving you to your date?"

"You don't have to walk in with me; just park at the corner."

John didn't answer; he just drank his coffee again.

"I'm just thinking you might need the car; otherwise I would drive myself."

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

John was used to Avery going out with other guys. He never met them, but she always let him know when she had a date. Normally, they happened during night time, and rarely she came back home (when she did, it indicated that her date hadn't gone so well). John believed she had clearly in her head that any kind of relationship would get in the way of his only objective, and she had made the commitment of helping him throughout his journey. Of course she was free to walk away at any time, but Avery was loyal. Since the first time he met her, he knew she was worth his trust.

"Where did you meet this guy?" John asked, walking out of the kitchen.

"Internet."

He sat on the couch in the living room and stared at the blank TV screen. Avery followed him and sat on the chair next to him.

"And what are you going to do all day long? Sit around and wait for Sullivan to call you?"

"Ain't got better plans."

Since John engaged on his hunt for Lou Souriano, the man who had killed his sister almost six years ago in Monaco, he had left behind every form of normal life he knew. Of course his life hadn't been normal so far; since he was just a boy, John had had contact with the criminal side of countries like Italy, France and Germany. He grew up watching men rob and kill, and before he'd hit adulthood, he had already learned how to shoot a Magnum. Caught in the middle of all that, the only thing that kept John from falling into the dark world of criminality was his younger sister, Rebekka. After her death, John gave up a simple, normal life, and gave himself away entirely to the task of finding the man who pulled the trigger on her. He didn't have hobbies or interests; when he found himself alone, there were only three things he could do: smoke, work out or drive around.

After he drove Avery off in Hatton Gardens at a fancy restaurant that was consistent with what she had said before about going out with a lawyer, John chose the last option; taking the Union Drive Highway, he outlined Algonquin island a couple of times. Around three pm, he crossed Hickey Bridge, going west, entering Leftwood in Alderney. Turning right, he started going north, entering West Dyke, the highest piece of land in Liberty City. At some point, he drove off the street, taking a side road that lead to a quiet spot just above the beach. John parked the black PMP under some trees, reclined the seat and sat back, with a cigarette between his lips. The radio was tuned to Liberty Rock and The Who was on, mixing very well with his moment. Beyond the horizon line, the sky expanded into eternity, and seagulls flew above the water in groups, searching for food. There weren't too many people at the beach that hour, but it was understandable. Liberty City had never been quite the touristic spot when it came to beaches and summer. The terrain of the island and the climate made the beaches pretty poor, nothing compared to the beaches of Vice City and Los Santos, in San Andreas. The only people who visited the beaches north of West Dyke were the rich people that lived in the area, and they weren't that many.

John stared at the car ceiling and smoked. In that fancy restaurant in Hatton Gardens, Avery was probably having a good time by now, with her lawyer and his expensive food. Sometimes, when John was alone and thoughtful, he thought about Avery and the role she played in his life. Until now, he hadn't quite found out yet.

They met six and a half years ago, somewhere north of Italy. Both had been hired by the same person, some old guy with a couple of illegal business spread around the city, to investigate the life of the owner of the main chain of casinos in that same city, in order to acquire valuable information for his opponent. John was admired by her efficiency and intelligence; Avery was attracted to his quiet, almost cold, personality. After the job was done, they stayed in touch. When Souriano and his brothers killed Rebekka, Avery was with John, and she was the first to know about it, after himself. Remembering those times, it was possible that, if it weren't for

Avery, John could have easily lost his mind. She was the one who helped him go through that awful period that followed Rebekka's death. When he announced his plans of killing the Souriano brother responsible for his disgrace, she just said "I'm coming with you." And she had stayed by his side since then.

John inhaled the smoke again and sighed. So many years had passed, and when finally thought he was getting close to his target, Sullivan told him he wasn't even there anymore. John was starting to feel like a idiot running around, seeking endlessly a man that had no idea of his existence, but still managed to escape every time John got too close.

He and Avery had spent more than a whole year in Europe trying to find Souriano, when one of the people he used to work with told them he had shipped off to the U.S. Feeling less confident, they gathered some money and flew off to America as well, believing that Souriano was hiding in a small town close to the Canadian border. When they finally got to the town, Souriano had already crossed the border, disappearing in Canada for almost a year. John and Avery, unable to cross over to the other side, decided to settle down somewhere near Buffalo, in New York. For several months, they tried to get information on Souriano again, without being able to enter the country. When John was about to give up, Avery came up with a brilliant plan that put them back on the track. A name, a few phone calls, and, three months later, they were moving into Liberty City, assured that Souriano was there. John didn't know what to believe anymore.

The Who on the radio was replaced by some annoying commercials that made John change stations, listening to some jazz now. Even though he had never really appreciated the style, it seemed to be the only good thing on at the moment.

John closed his eyes and just listened to the music, the cigarette just hanging from the corner of his mouth. He started feeling sleepy, and, reclining the seat even more, he got prepared for a nap. That was when he cell phone rang.

Clearly annoyed because he already knew who it was, John reached out for it on the passenger's seat, huffing, and flipped it open.

Unknown Caller flashed on the screen. John pressed the green button.

"Hello."

"Mr. Myers."

The voice on the other end of the line was nothing like Sullivan or anyone he knew. It carried a very specific accent that John couldn't identify immediately, and it belonged to a man not much older than himself. The voice was low and serious, but not intimidating.

"Who is this?" he asked.

"It's Niko Bellic. I wanted to meet you for a little talk, Mr. Myers. Are you busy?"

"Right now?"

John raised his watch in front of his eyes. Almost three and a half.

"Yes" Bellic answered.

"What is this about?"

"It's a delicate issue, Mr. Myers. If you don't mind, I would like to discuss it in private with you. Can you meet me in Berchem in thirty minutes?"

Berchem? It wasn't so far from where he was.

"How did you get my number?"

"I got it with Jack Sullivan. I believe you've been working with him lately?"

Holding himself not to throw the cell phone out the window, John bit his lips. Sullivan was supposed to keep quiet about him; yet, he was handing out his number to strangers.

"Yes" John answered, feeling a slight headache on the back of his head.

"Good. So, can I see in Berchem, in thirty minutes?"

"Where, in Berchem?"

"There is a coffee shop near Vitullo Avenue. A discreet place where we can meet."

"Alright."

"See you thirty minutes, Mr. Myers."

And, without waiting for an answer, Niko hung up the phone.

John threw it on the passenger's seat again and rubbed his eyes. He swore to himself that he was going to kill Sullivan as soon as he got his hands on him again. He was supposed to keep things low about John, but the idiot was parading him like a fucking piece of diamond. John wanted some serious explanations from his behalf.

Sighing, John lifted the seat, turned down the radio and threw the cigarette out the window. Not happy at all, but still intrigued with that unknown caller that had identified himself as Niko Bellic, he pulled out to the street and got on his way to Berchem.


	3. Chapter Two: Identity

Chapter Two - Identity

John parked by the curb and walked out of the black PMP. There weren't too many people on the streets, something unusual at three pm on a Wednesday. The man, Niko Bellic, had carefully chosen that place. He knew it wasn't too crowded, even on the busiest hours. That told John that the guy knew the city, even though his accent gave him away as an immigrant. What was he? Russian? Czech? John couldn't tell.

Looking at his watch, he knew he had gotten there too soon, but there was the possibility that Bellic was already in there. So John walked into the coffee shop and scoped the room, looking for someone with an unusual appearance. Even though there a lot of immigrants in Liberty City, the majority was still formed by locals, descendants of Americans.

The coffee shop was deserted. A lonely waitress with blonde hair down to her shoulders wandered the tables carrying a tray. She raised her eyes to him without discretion, interested. John looked away. Without finding anyone that could fit in his mental imagine of Bellic, John sat at a table on the corner near the window and gazed through the glass, watching the street. The blonde waitress approached him with an interesting smile and pulled out her small notepad.

"Can I get you anything?" she spoke with soft voice.

"A beer would be fine" John said, disinterested.

She made a notation on her pad.

"Got any preferences?"

"Bring anything you like."

With a playful smile on her face, she walked away from John, confident that he was checking her out while he was actually observing the movement on the streets, waiting for Bellic.

A minute later, the waitress came back with his beer and left it on the table in front of him.

"Are you waiting for someone?" she asked, standing next to his table, holding her hands in front of her body.

"Yes, I have a date" he said, hoping that would make her leave.

"In the middle of the day on a Wednesday?"

"Yes. He's a very busy man; a lawyer. His schedule is always full."

John saw her blush and walk away, embarrassed. He, on the other hand, was impassive as always. His life was so full of lies that another one didn't seem to make much difference. Lucky for him, he didn't care about what others thought. That was why pretending to be a homosexual so out of a sudden didn't change his countenance. Instead, he just looked out the window again, bored and anxious.

As the minutes kept passing and nothing interesting happened, John started thinking if that wasn't a set up for him. Of course; a strange man calls you in the middle of the day and immediately asks you to meet up, saying he got your number from one of the most influent men in Liberty Mafia after you made it very clear to keep that information private. Who was that guy anyway? He claimed to be 'Niko Bellic', but anyone could lie about a name. John had no idea of what to expect, and was starting to get impatient. Right now, he could be under the scope of a sniper rifle, due to his closeness to the window. Or he could be poisoned by the beer he was drinking. That young waitress had taken a lot of interest in him when he walked in, perhaps she was already waiting for someone with his description...?

If Avery was there, she would have told him to keep calm and stop obsessing. But John had seen enough to know that you can't trust anyone. Specially someone you exchanged a few words over the phone.

He drank the last sip of beer and took a look at his watch. Barely four o'clock yet. The blonde waitress was standing at the counter, talking to the man behind it. Her eyes moved around the room and stopped on him every now and then. Maybe she was weighing his lie, or she was just gossiping. Either way, John didn't care.

Just as his eyes moved away from her, a man around his age, wearing a leather jacket and a pair of jeans, walked into the coffee shop and approached him. He had scars on his face and calluses on his hands, and he didn't look like a local.

"John Myers?" the man spoke with a peculiar accent.

"Niko Bellic."

The man stretched out his hand and John shook it. When he sat down in front of him, the waitress came over without that playful smile from before on her lips and took his order: a glass of vodka. John saw her give Bellic an up and down look and then walk away rolling her eyes, annoyed.

"Before we get into anything, Bellic, I want to know who are you and what do you need me for" John said before Niko could open his mouth. It was something like an opening speech; John always started with that when he met a potential hirer.

"My name is Niko Bellic, and I'm from somewhere in East Europe" the man spoke very slow and simply with that heavy accent, showing his lack familiarity with the idiom. John leaned back on the chair, acquiring a more relaxed posture.

"Where in East Europe?" John insisted.

Bellic narrowed his eyes and analyzed John's face, measuring his interest. John was impassive.

"Serbia" he finally said. "But that's not important."

Niko crossed his arms on the table just as the waitress brought his glass of vodka and took away his empty beer bottle.

"And why did you call me in the middle of the day on my personal phone?"

"I'm not looking for a... puppy, as you may think. I'm only after some answers."

Intrigued, John crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at Bellic. He was sure the guy was just another Russian mobster looking for someone to do his dirty job, like Sullivan and every other man John had met in Liberty City. Instead, he came up with this story of "wanting some answers". John was definitely interested now, and a little apprehensive.

"I'm looking for a man named Phillip Becker. He was born in south Germany in the 60's; both parents were German. A few years later, his family settled down in Austria to escape the Cold War. In the 80's, he started participating in the criminal activities in the country before he finally moved to Italy under the name of Diedrich Hartmann, where he integrated a private organization that was responsible for more than fifteen hundred murders in north Italy, France and Austria. The organization was said to have a strong connection to the Italian mafia, and it was 'extinguished' in 1989 after the fall of the Berlin Wall. Of course you know as well as I do that that is not true."

Bellic narrowed his eyes, challenging John.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I know that you were part of that same organization at the same time Phillip was there. You probably met him, didn't you?"

Bellic's voice was low and serious. John stared at him over the table while drank his vodka. That Bellic guy had surprised him even more that he could have imagined; how did he know about his participation in the mobster crimes committed fifteen years ago in Italy? He probably had some kind of researcher, maybe even an entire team working under him. If that was so, he had much more influence and power than his clothes showed. What kind of game was he playing with John? Still apprehensive, John answered in the same low voice he was speaking.

"I might have met a guy named Diedrich Hartmann in Italy a few years ago; I don't know if it's the guy you're looking for."

"He was part of the team that killed Luigino Marchetti in 1985; the man with the hands and feet cut out and thrown in the Tanaro River."

Niko made a pause of effect. If he was trying to impress or scare John, it didn't work.

"You were part of that team too, weren't you?" Bellic proceeded.

How did that guy know so much?

John sighed.

"Okay, so I met Diedrich Hartmann or Phillip Becker or whatever you call him. But I haven't seen him in years" John explained.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Niko asked, drinking the vodka again.

"In 1988. We were supposed to kidnap some mobster's daughter for a German group in Vercelli and drop her off at the Swiss border. It was his last operation with us; a disagreement over our benefits made him leave right after. I never saw him again."

"Do you know where he went?"

"He said somewhere south."

"How long did you stay in Italy?"

"How is that relevant to you?"

The two men stared at each other over the glass of vodka. Bellic reached out for it and drank the last sip.

"How did you find me?" John asked, rippling his fingers on the table top.

"I told you; Jack Sullivan."

"I told Sullivan that my phone number was private."

"Obviously he didn't understand that."

Bellic leaned on the table and crossed his fingers, preparing to say something. His eyes moved around the room the same way John's had done once. They were looking for anything suspicious, anyone that could be taking more interest in their conversation than it should. He looked a bit anxious, but John couldn't tell why. Finally, he raised an eyebrow to him and said:

"How was that Diedrich Hartmann like?"

"Quiet, controlled guy" John shrugged.

"How well did you know him?"

"We exchanged a few words every now and then."

"Did he tell you anything about his family, his life before he joined the group?"

John pressed his lips before answering.

"Never."

"What did you think of him?"

"Listen, Bellic, I don't as much free time as you think. Tell me what you want, and I'll see if I can help you."

"Alright, alright."

Niko raised his hands with the palms facing John.

"A friend of mine is looking for this 'Phillip Becker'. Apparently he has left some... loose ends that need to be tied. When he heard that you had contacted Jack Sullivan, he told me to get in touch with you and see what you knew about Becker."

"So this guy knows me? Who is he?" John questioned, frowning.

"He knows your name. Or at least the name you used before you falsified your American documents."

John felt the situation slowly start to get out of his control. It wasn't just that Niko Bellic guy that knew that much about him; someone else did too. And that someone else knew more than John could ever imagine. At this point, John was wondering what he didn't know. The guy must have followed him since he left Italy with Avery, perhaps earlier. And did he even know about her?

"Who is this 'friend' of yours?" he insisted.

"Don't worry, John, he's not after you. But your name showed up a lot when he researched Phillip Becker. So you might hear about this again later."

Bellic stood up and took a ten dollars bill from his front pocket and left it on the table, next to the empty glass of vodka.

"If I were you, Myers, I would be more careful here in this city" Niko advised him. "You have no idea what kind of shit I went through after I got here."

"I think I know how to cover my own ass, Bellic" John replied, sarcastic.

Niko gave him one last look.

"I thought I did too. See you around."

Niko Bellic walked out of the coffee shop and disappeared out of John's sight. For one moment, he thought about following him, but Niko was smarter than that; he would notice John's black PMP 600 behind him. So he just let him walk away, while he stalled a little bit in the coffee shop, trying to get his thoughts in line.

There was more in that Niko Bellic than he had tried to show during the meeting. John had definitely more things to worry about now. While trying to keep Sullivan quiet about himself was already a lost cause, as a bonus, John had gotten a strange man with wealthy resources doing researches on him and asking for information. Beside all that, he still had to worry about Souriano and how he would get to Vice City. Thank God he wasn't alone in all that.

John left the coffee shop five minutes later and got into his car. Mad about his current situation, John punched the steering wheel, setting off the horn. Some lonely pedestrians were startled by the sound, but none of them seemed to care about John's personal outburst inside the black PMP.

In less than thirty minutes, Bellic had managed to destroy his confidence that no-one had followed him from Italy and that no-one knew who he was. Worse; there was someone watching his moves and contacting the people John knew. And that person wasn't afraid of taking risks, like sending someone to interrogate John directly. Or maybe Bellic had lied about that "friend of his". But how could John know? The only thing he knew now was that nowhere was safe.

He needed to find out more about Bellic, but there was someone else who deserved his attention first.


	4. Chapter Three: Living in The Hills

Chapter Three – Living in The Hills

The sun shone down on the front yards of the mansions located on the highest spot of Liberty City, in Westdyke, north Alderney, and the radio played "One Vision" by Queen. Behind his sunglasses, John watched the kids playing on the sidewalk and the teenagers riding their bikes like in any other country city in the U.S. He wondered how much did those kids know about what really went down in Liberty City, if they knew how rotten the city really was under the pretty frontages of the tall buildings in Algonquin or behind the doors of the mansions in Westdyke. Maybe it was better if no-one knew, he thought to himself.

John drove up the entrance of Sullivan's house and left the PMP 600 parked next to a silver Cognosceti. Taking off his sunglasses, John walked up to the front door and rang the bell.

A man in a cheap suit just like the one that had opened the door to him of that small apartment in North Holland let John in and led him to Jack's private office on the back of the house.

The first time John had been there, he had noticed that Sullivan had a peculiar taste for furniture. His interest was mostly turned to the Italian Renaissance, and it showed on the paintings and sculptures spread around the rooms and hallways. Being filthy rich as he was, affording some original masterpieces to embellish his home was no problem.

Jack's office was no different: in the middle, a dark mahogany desk occupied most of the opposite wall, in front of a big panoramic window that showed the calm waters of the Atlantic and the deserted beaches of Liberty City. The other three walls were covered by shelves filled with books and a big painting of a mountain landscape.

Jack Sullivan was sitting behind the mahogany desk, finishing off a check when John walked in. He heard the door close behind his back and then there was only he and Sullivan in the room.

John gave three more steps towards the table, but the man didn't seem to notice his presence in there. His hand flew across the check, filling the blanks. Before John could get a glimpse at the value, Sullivan closed the checkbook and threw it in a drawer with the pen, turning his gaze to John.

"How can I help you, John?"

He noticed that that playful tone he carried had disappeared. Jack's countenance was strong and serious, and he spoke low and directly, meaning that he probably had other things to do and didn't want to waste time with John. But John didn't care about that at all. He bent over the desk and leaned his arms on the top, staring at Jack's eyes while his blood burned in his veins.

"I hope you didn't forget our deal, Sullivan" he spoke in a low voice tone, threatening.

Sullivan blinked, but no sign of fear appeared on his face.

"What are you talking about, John?"

"Fuck!" John punched the desk. "You know what I'm talking about!"

The incomprehension on Jack's face was evident. He couldn't remember of a reason for John to be so angry with him, or maybe he didn't think that was a reason for John to be mad at all.

"I want to know why you gave my phone number to Niko Bellic."

Jack's frown disappeared and his face became a little bit more relaxed.

"He got in touch with you?"

"Yeah, of course" John replied. "And he's got some interesting stories to tell, Sullivan. Why did you give it to him?"

Jack didn't answer. Instead, he stood up from behind the table and opened a small metal box that contained some of the best cigars John had seen. Slowly, Sullivan took one and lit it with a personalized lighter from the front pocket of his jacket.

"Want one?" he asked, indicating the box to John.

John was confused. Jack was acting very differently from what he knew, and that was more maddening than anything else. He was distant, quiet. He didn't care about what John was doing there, or what had brought him there. He smoked his cigar peacefully by the window, watching the view and thinking about something else. John's gaze went from the open box to the cigar in his hand, trying to find a way to call his attention, to make him see that it was important.

"No, Jack... listen, I ain't got time to waste here and you fucking know it. You also know that I made it very clear that my phone number..."

"Yes, yes, yes" Jack interrupted, impatient. "Damn it, John, I'm not a moron. I know that your phone number is not a fucking piece of candy for me to be handing out to every guy I know who needs a job done. I know what you want in Liberty City. Don't think I forgot everything you've said, Johnny."

"Then why did you give it to Bellic?"

Jack stared at the window and let a ring of smoke into the air. After a moment of silence, he replied.

"You don't have to worry about Niko Bellic."

"Really? Well, I'll have to disagree to that."

"Why?"

"It doesn't matter. Why did you give it to him?"

"'Cause he asked" Jack shrugged, still looking out the window and smoking.

_What the fuck was wrong with that man today?_

"I thought you remembered what I had said to you. Clearly, you _don't_."

"Calm down, Johnny, alright? Niko Bellic came to me one of these days asking for help. There was a man, some guy that owed him some money from his time in Serbia, and he needed to find him. I said I might know someone who could help. You had made it very clear that I shouldn't be announcing you like a piece of meat, Johnny, and I respect that. But that's not what I did. Niko just wanted to talk to you, didn't he?"

Sullivan was still standing behind the desk, near the window, with the expensive cigar between his fingers. Something that he had said had called John's attention immediately.

He had said Niko was after a guy that owed him money. But that was not what Bellic had said at their meeting. He was talking about a "friend" of his that had some unfinished business with Phillip Becker. So Niko had lied to Sullivan, but there was no doubt he wasn't bluffing about what kind of information he possessed: about John, about Becker, about everyone else.

"How could you know if he was lying or not?" John asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Sullivan shook his head.

"I know Niko. The guy is decent."

_And very well informed_, John thought.

"Listen, Jack" John said at last, running his hands through his hair. "I don't care if he is the fucking pope, a'right?. I ain't got time to waste here. I want to get out of this city as soon as I can and I'm not doing any kind of favors to anyone. So, don't... give my number to anyone, don't mention my name to anyone unless I ask you to and don't call me unless you got something interesting to say, okay?"

"I thought you wanted Souriano" Sullivan said without looking at John.

"That's what I meant" John replied.

"I said I was gonna give him to you."

Sullivan's voice had gotten low and serious again, and he was busy moving the cigar around his fingers, analyzing it from every single angle. It was just a pretext not to look at John.

Impatient, John tried to end the conversation.

"Fine. Call me when you got something on him, Jack. See you."

John turned around to leave, but Jack's voice calling made him stop.

"Wait!"

John thought seriously about turning around or just continue to door and leave, but the desperation in Jack's voice made him stop and take a step back. Almost frustrated, John turned around and opened his arms to Jack, with a look of sincere disinterest on his face.

"What do you want now?"

Jack stared at him and blinked once again.

"I got a job for you. It's your ticket to Vice City."


End file.
